


I Knocked

by Optimistic_Avacado



Category: Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Blood, Danti - Freeform, Fluff, Gunshot Wounds, Hurt/Comfort, Kinda, M/M, Medical Inaccuracies, Mild Gore, cause i dont know my shit, in the literal sense
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-14
Updated: 2017-11-14
Packaged: 2019-02-02 01:34:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,597
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12716994
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Optimistic_Avacado/pseuds/Optimistic_Avacado
Summary: His phone is ringing.Why the fuck is his phone ringing?in which Dark gets shot on the job cause he was a dumbass, and Anti has to come to the rescue. Blood & fluff ensues.





	I Knocked

**Author's Note:**

> fun fact this is loosely based on a story my mom told me about her Cool Past.
> 
> enjoy.

His phone is ringing.

 

Why the fuck is his phone ringing?

 

Anti rolls over in bed groggily, making a menial attempt to shoo away the comforting blanket of sleep.

 

His phone rings again.

 

Anti groans and grabs it, answering without looking at the caller ID. “Hello?” he grumbles out.

 

He hears a pained groan on the other end then, “Anti? Where are you―I just got fucking shot.”

 

Anti bolts upright. “Dark, what the fuck are you talkin’ about?!” He’s already fumbling into his pants and grabbing his keys. Dark only lives a few minutes away. “I’ll be there as quickly as possible, hang on.”

 

Dark hisses and groans again. “You better fucking hurry.”

 

Anti breaks the speed limit threefold and runs at least seven red lights; no one could give less of a fuck in the desolate hours of the night, though.

 

When he pulls into Dark’s driveway, he doesn’t even spare the thought of locking his car before he leaps out, slams the door, and sprints up the driveway. Anti darts through the doorway and heads straight towards the bathroom, where he can hear the utterances of pain coming from his boyfriend.

 

“Anti?”

 

“Dark,  _ fuck _ , what the fuck?” Anti rushes over to where dark is lying in his bathtub, clutching at his hip. His hands are stained with blood, and more is pooling out from the apparent bullet wound.

 

Kneeling, Anti slowly pulls Dark’s hands away from his hip, glancing up at his boyfriend’s face as he flinches. “How did this happen?” He’s already retrieving the medical kit from the drawer.

 

“I knocked.”

 

Anti pauses for a moment.

 

Dark winces. “I know, I’m fucking stupid, I don’t know what I was thinking! I knocked and the guy fucking shot me through the door!” His breath catches and he goes to grip his hip again.

“Oh no you fuckin’ don’t,” Anti grabbs his wrist and sets his arm out of the way, he needs to inspect the wound. Peering at the crimson hole just below Dark’s hip bone, Anti lets out a frustrated sigh. No exit wound. The bullet is still fucking in there.

 

“Hold on.” Anti stands up and heads toward the kitchen. Once there, he looks around for a moment before he finds what he was looking for, a bottle of vodka on top of the fridge. Grabbing it, he heads back to the bathroom.

 

Anti hands the bottle to Dark.

 

Dark wordlessly takes the bottle and immediately unscrews the lid to drink. Meanwhile, Anti gathers what he needs from the medical kit. Tweezers, suture needle and thread, and … fuck. 

 

Anti gives a wary glance over at Dark, who is taking rather sizeable swigs from the vodka bottle like it’s water.

 

“Dark, I’ve only got topical numbing cream.” Dark takes a larger swig.

 

Anti sighs heavily and sets all of his supplies on the toilet seat next to the bathtub, then kneels back down at the edge of the bathtub.

 

He pulls the tweezers from their sterile bag. Kneeling down at the edge of the tub, Anti looks Dark in the eyes and says, point blank, “this is going to fucking hurt.” No point in beating around the bush.

 

Dark takes a deep breath and situates himself at an angle where Anti can reach the wound better, flinching the whole way. “Okay, I’m ready. Get this fucking thing out of me.”

 

Anti snorts. “Wow, never thought I’d hear you say that.”

 

Dark gives a small chuckle, even though he flinches right after.

 

Pushing the dirty joke aside, Anti gets serious again, and slowly raises the tweezers near the hole. At the first prod, Dark flinches away, but slowly relaxes and takes several deep breaths. As gently as he can, Anti eases the tweezers into the wound, searching for something solid. 

 

“The door most likely― _ fuck _ ―slowed down the bullet enough that it wouldn’t have gone that deep―ow,  _ god _ ―” Dark grips the edge of the tub so hard his knuckles turn white.

 

Only a moment later,Anti finds what he was looking for and carefully grips the bullet. Dark makes another sound of distress. Feeling like he was playing a game of operation, Anti tenderly pulls the bullet out, which is followed by a new rush of blood from the wound.

 

Anti swears under his breath and quickly covers it with some gauze and applies pressure. He looks up at Dark, whose tan complexion has been taken over by a sickly pallor. “You holdin up?” Anti tries at a light-hearted tone, but his voice cracks instead.

 

Dark groggily peers up at him, tries at a smile, and croaks out, “yeah.” Though his appearance seems to suggest otherwise. Dark lets out a breathy laugh. “Reminds you of when we met, doesn’t it? Its funny, this time I was the one who needs saving”

 

Anti huffs and shakes his head, smiling to himself nonetheless. Dark’s blood-stained hand comes up to gently brush the scar that stretches itself across the span of Anti’s neck, leaving crimson fingerprints in its wake. Anti leans into the touch minutely, but draws back just as quickly. “You’re getting delirious from blood loss and alcohol, Dark.”

 

“Mmh, I don’t care.” Pretty much proving Anti’s point, Dark’s head lolls to the side, his eyes fluttering.

 

Anti is quick to check the wound, and sees that the bleeding has mildly stopped—at least to the point that he can start stitching it up. He takes a deep breath and grabs the numbing cream. He squeezes as much as possible around the torn flesh, then goes to thread the suture needle with the medical thread. “It’ll only need three at the most. Can you get through that, baby?” Anti says, smoothing back Dark’s hair.

 

Dark makes a face. “Just get it over with, Anti.”

 

“Right.” Anti steels himself, finishing threading the needle and inspecting the abrasion closely. He wipes at the excess cream, and prods at the wound. “How much does that hurt?”

 

Dark hums, “not much.”

 

“Okay, good…” Anti positions the needle, and glances at Dark. He nods, and Anti makes the first needle puncture. Dark immediately jolts and hisses at the pain, but takes a few deep breaths and soon nods to Anti to tell him to keep going. He pulls the thread through and ties off the stitch.

 

After three agonizing sutures, Anti ties off the last one with a heavy sigh. “That was the last one, you did it babe.” Anti combs his fingers back through the black hair sticking to his boyfriend’s forehead, and proceeds to plant a kiss on the clammy skin there. “How’re you feeling?”

 

Dark groans in response, then twists his body slightly. “M’ uncomfortable. Help me to my… my bed.”

 

Dark makes an attempt to pull himself up out of the bathtub. Anti lets out a string of curses and scrambles to help him out as carefully as possible, minding the area on his hip where the stitches are located. They both stumble towards Dark’s bedroom with Anti supporting the majority of Dark’s weight (damn his boyfriend for being so goddamn bulky). He carefully lowers Dark down onto his bed, then darts over to grab the medical kit again. When he returns, he wastes no time shucking off his boyfriend’s ruined slacks to gain better access to the wound. Anti globs a generous amount of numbing cream, along with antibiotic ointment, onto the stitched up wound and then covers it with a gauze pad, with medical tape holding it in place.

 

Anti looks up at Dark to see that he’s passed out. His paranoid mind momentarily panics at his boyfriend’s unconscious appearance, but the thought is quickly banished when Anti spots Dark’s chest slowly rising and falling with calm breaths. Smiling to himself, he carefully shucks the blood-stained white button up and black tie off of Dark’s sleeping form.

 

Throwing the ruined clothing–both the shirt and slacks, though the tie is salvageable–into the trash, Anti feels the exhaustion of the night slowly creeping into him. He finishes off cleaning up the bloody mess in the bathroom. Then he packs all of the medical supplies back into the cabinet,  _ hopefully  _ not to be taken back out for a while. He places the bullet he pulled out of his boyfriend on the counter, he doesn’t want to deal with  _ that _ right now. By the time he finishes, Anti is ready to find the nearest horizontal surface to pass out on, and Dark’s bed looks like the most inviting one.

 

Anti clambers into the bedroom and onto the bed, cautiously pulling the blanket out from under Dark and over them both. Settling himself, Anti rolls over and is met with Dark gazing directly at him, a lazy smile turning his eyes into half-moons.

 

“Oh, sorry, I… didn’t mean to wake you up, Dark, go back to sleep.”

 

“C’mere,” Dark makes a lethargic grabby hand at him. Hesitantly, Anti scoots closer until Dark can get ahold of him, pulling him all the way against his chest.

 

“Your–” Anti tries to say.

 

“Shhh,” Dark takes Anti’s hand and gently places it near the gauze pad, showing him he that he’s laying on his good side.

 

Anti lets out a sigh of relief and snuggles in closer to his boyfriend, trying to warm the pale, clammy skin. Dark smells very strongly of alcohol and iron. “You’re such a fuckin’ idiot.” He mumbles into Dark’s chest.

 

He feels Dark plant a kiss on the top of his head, fingers idly combing through dark green hair. “I know, but I’m  _ your _ idiot.”

  
  



End file.
